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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28951296">Unexpected Intersections of Rooftops and Invitations</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yellow_Bird_On_Richland/pseuds/Yellow_Bird_On_Richland'>Yellow_Bird_On_Richland</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Community (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bisexual Britta Perry, F/F, Just gals being pals, Songfic, lesbian Annie Edison, season 6 AU</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 05:16:13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,546</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28951296</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yellow_Bird_On_Richland/pseuds/Yellow_Bird_On_Richland</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>On its face, Britta and Annie's rekindling of their friendship reads as an unlikely alliance, one birthed by absurd circumstances.</p><p>But then again, they share an apartment that used to be home to pirate sieges and space adventures; normalcy’s unwelcome no matter where they go.</p><p>I'm debating adding a second chapter to this--might leave it as is, might expand further.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Annie Edison/Britta Perry</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>30</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Unexpected Intersections of Rooftops and Invitations</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>A response to 2 Tumblr Taylor Swift lyric prompts: one from It's Nice To Have A Friend and another from Paper Rings.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The first time it happens, it's thanks to Britta's insomnia and Annie's perfectionism.</p><p>It's 6:41 A.M., and Annie's studying for her forensics exam for the FBI, as she's done in every spare moment she can carve out of her schedule for the past couple months.</p><p>Britta stirs while she's getting herself a glass of water, and the blonde murmurs sleepily, "You still up?"</p><p>"No, I went to sleep and woke up a little while ago," Annie answers, trying to keep the edge out of her voice. "Got almost six hours in."</p><p>"That's hardly enough sleep," Britta counters with surprising alertness.</p><p>"Sure it is," she replies, because lying still comes to her easily when she's trying to get ahead.</p><p>"You've been short-tempered with <em>Frankie</em> lately," Britta emphasizes, "and Abed and I haven't been drinking much of the apartment's supply of pop lately, but it's been dwindling anyway. So I'm gonna have to disagree."</p><p>She slowly pushes Annie's notebook away, toward the other end of the table, and a protest is on her lips when Britta says, "Come up to the roof and watch the sunrise with me."</p><p>Annie squints at her because they don't share many "duo stories," as Abed calls them, but Britta rolls her eyes and insists, "Your notes will be here when you get back. It's, like, five minutes. You deserve a break, and no offense, I don't trust you to actually take one yourself."</p><p>"So forced relaxation is the answer?" Annie retorts, but makes herself get up anyway. Even now, with her little girl-crush well in the rearview mirror, Britta can still exert something of a pull on her.</p><p>"C'mon—have you <em>ever </em>watched a sunrise in person?" Britta wheedles as Annie shakes her head. "No? Well, we need to correct this heretofore missing life experience, then."</p><p>Annie can't help but snort at Britta's word choice, but she follows her just the same.</p><p>"I've never been up here," she muses softly as they climb the building's final staircase.</p><p>"It's a nice little place to be alone when the weather's good." Britta holds the door open for her, and Annie shivers slightly against the crisp, early morning October air. "I sometimes need that, with only being a coucher."</p><p>Annie registers a twinge of guilt at the matter-of-factness to her tone, to how she's so easily accepted her rather depressing circumstances, and the realization that Britta's the only one of them who doesn't have a space that's truly her own in their apartment, even a small one, stings more than the brisk breeze cutting through them.</p><p>Her resolve stiffens, and she says, carefully, trying to measure her words, "I could talk to Abed about you taking Troy's old room. You already kind of lived there part-time when you two dated, anyway. But you have to start actually paying your rent," she adds, a hint of steel penetrating her tone. "Since we're also broke, too."</p><p>Britta still lights up like the sun creeping over the horizon, like an expanse of pink sky emerging after a nighttime curfew, and she nods eagerly. "I can do that. I've been earning good tips at The Vatican lately. And I really should cut down on indulging my bad habits. Weed's fuckin' expensive when you aren't banging the dealer."</p><p>Annie laughs despite herself—there's something to Britta's casual approach to life that she wishes she could steal. A little part of it to offset her tendency to anticipate the future with too much anxiety and not enough hope.</p><p>Britta nudges her with her shoulder from their perch near the edge of the roof and gestures outward at the sunrise. "Look. Just...let the day come to you once in a while, Annie. You don't always have to race to wring every bit of life from it, you know."</p><p>Britta takes in a couple deep breaths, watches Annie to make sure she does the same, to make sure she's genuinely in the moment.</p><p>"I'll try that," Annie murmurs. "Thanks, Britta. This was...nice."</p><p>"Sure thing." She nods, yawns, stretches, exposes a strip of her fair, white skin along her stomach, between her black Greendale sweatshirt and her blue flannel pajama pants. "And thanks for that offer of having an actual room."</p><p>"It'll still take a while—you know how Abed can be."</p><p>Britta chuckles. "Yeah, but I appreciate it, anyway." She holds the door open once again as they go back inside.</p><p>Nothing really changes from there—Britta tries to get back to sleep, and Annie actually dives into her studying. If anyone asked, she'd say it was an unremarkable five minutes.</p><p>But Annie swears the tension and pressure behind her eyes, the kind that can morph into a stress headache at a moment's notice, thrums with a bit less force than usual for the rest of the morning, at least.</p><p>**</p><p>It's strange, the way Britta settles into her life without much of a fuss, like a pile of leaves or a steady snowfall descending onto a nicely manicured suburban lawn, how she chooses to go quietly into that good night. She's not raging against the dying of the light the way Jeff is now, perpetually on the prowl for women in their mid-20s, as if he can vicariously restore his own youth by fucking chicks who are only a couple years out of college.</p><p>Once upon a time, she'd be concerned about this particular downward spiral, but two faux-engagements and years of Jeff alternating between wanting her and wanting to insult her have cooled her reserves of warmth toward him. She's gone out of her way to help him when the rest of the group has made an effort, sure, but aside from their comments and suggestions, she's not in a rush to bust up her own new routines. They're bringing her some modicum of comfort, and for once, they're non-destructive. She's swapped out booze and bad dating decisions for a semi-regular gym schedule and seven hours of sleep when she can get it.</p><p>She's not quite a full-blown adult yet, what with still holding down her bartending job at The Vatican and not having a ton of psych-related career prospects, but she's at least updated her resume, and Abed took a mostly-professional-looking headshot that she could use for her LinkedIn profile.</p><p>Britta realizes, now, that she'd spent too long running on the fumes of being a teenager, and there's no real point in "sticking it to the man" from a foundation of outdated principles she's not sure she believes in anymore.</p><p>Truly, as much as she made fun of Annie for having a stick up her butt in the past, she's starting to comprehend how following her lead and making a plan for her life is...well, smart. Sensible. Rational.</p><p>All the things she'd once wanted to rebel against.</p><p>She tells her that, in what feels a bit like a confession, during one of their morning rooftop meetings, a bit before Christmas.</p><p>Those have unexpectedly become part of her routine, too.</p><p>Or <em>their </em>routine, she should say; even if Britta still sojourns up on her own once in a while, she and Annie had started coming up together about once a month ever since that first time in late October.</p><p>"So you're saying you're becoming a bit more like me?" Annie asks her gently. They're bundled up in their winter coats, and it's fucking freezing, but that hadn't stopped them in November, either.</p><p>She's surprised at the lack of condescension in Annie's tone, at how she sounds flattered, more than anything. "Yeah. Guess so. You're mostly on top of things compared to damn near everyone else here besides Frankie."</p><p>"I had to come back for two more years because my previous degree led to a dead-end job hawking medical office supplies, Britta."</p><p>"And now you're busting your butt to try and get an internship at the FBI," Britta reminds her, and she silently wonders, <em>"If you can prop Annie up, why can't you ever do that for yourself?"</em></p><p>"I mean, yeah," Annie shrugs modestly, "but who knows if I will. And then…" her lips go thin. "I—I dunno, really, what else I'd do. Greendale's been my fall-back for the past six years, basically," she admits, both to herself and Britta. "I'm not sure what my next move will be if the FBI gig doesn't work out. You seem way more flexible and adaptable than I've ever been. I kinda wish I was like that, sometimes."</p><p>"That's what happens when your first plan never goes in your favor. You don't wanna live that way, trust me." Her laugh comes out sharper than the wind, and she hates how Annie's face falls at it, so she adjusts her tone as she goes on to say, "And you won't. You know the old saying that everyone has a plan until they get punched in the mouth?"</p><p>"Mmhmm."</p><p>"You definitely would," Britta reassures her. "I mean, shit, Annie, you put yourself through rehab at eighteen and immediately jumped into attending college full-time afterwards. You're a fighter. You'll persevere no matter what comes your way. I know it."</p><p>"Thanks," she murmurs softly. "You will, too, Britta, and I'm not just saying that. You always find a way around obstacles and come out the other side without compromising your values." She gives a rueful smile. "Unlike when I tried to get a bulletin board in the cafeteria replaced and ended up neck-deep in small-time corruption."</p><p>"You're just really passionate and driven. Sometimes a little <em>too </em>driven," Britta allows, "but it's better to be wired like that than the other way around. Speaking as someone who lied to herself about apathy being a rebellious attitude to take toward the world for part of her mid-twenties."</p><p>She clears her throat like she's said too much and jerks her head toward the door. "Wanna head back in? Maybe make some hot cocoa?"</p><p>Annie shivers and nods. "That'd be nice."</p><p>Britta's not sure why she wishes she'd said no; maybe it's the sense that time's elastic when they have these little chats, even though they rarely spend more than ten minutes together.</p><p>They only have jumbo marshmallows to add to their beverages—for whatever reason, Giant Eagle doesn't carry mini kosher ones—and, suddenly, rather a lot happens at once.</p><p>Abed stumbles in, his pajamas still rumpled from sleep, and his face lights up for a second when he sees the Swiss Miss package out.</p><p>Britta automatically tells him, "We made actual hot chocolate, not special drink," and it hits her that the two nerds she lives with have kinda made this particular run-down apartment a true home for her.</p><p>And when she hears Annie giggle and watches her blow an oversized marshmallow to one side of an Inspector Spacetime mug, pin it to the rim with her tongue, and not-so-daintily chomp down on it, she realizes, <em>"I kinda wanna kiss one of them."</em></p><p>She groans to herself. <em>"It's too early for this shit."</em></p><p>"<em>Is it? When you're the one who invited her to come up to the roof that one morning?"</em></p><p>"Motherfucker," she hisses under her breath, but not quietly enough.</p><p>Annie frowns and takes half a step in her direction. "You ok, Britts?"</p><p>"Yeah," she nods, too quickly. "Just, um, burned my tongue a little on the cocoa."</p><p>She mutters some excuse about wanting to get more sleep and wills herself to not turn around, even when she can feel Annie's curious gaze on her.</p><p>"<em>You're trouble, and that's trouble, and you can't drag her into your trouble," </em>Britta warns herself. <em>"And you're delusional for thinking Annie would ever be into you, anyway."</em></p><p>With the rest of the group not making fun of her as much lately, someone's gotta step in to pick up the slack.</p><p>As she stains her nightstand with her mug—she's not enough of an adult yet to have her own coasters—she wishes her anxiety and low self-esteem were less eager to volunteer for the job.</p><p>**</p><p>Frankie frowns as they all lay out their plan. "You all know parties aren't exactly my thing, right?"</p><p>"Yes, but you're kind of one of us now," Jeff points out. "And you're under absolutely no obligation to come to our little get-together. But it's there as an option."</p><p>Frankie's frown doesn't go away. "Isn't it the same day as Greendale's winter solstice party?"</p><p>Jeff's nod comes across a touch grim. "That's kinda the point."</p><p>"We're sort of burnt out on Greendale parties for now," Britta chimes in.</p><p>"And galas," Abed notes, and Annie adds, "And dances. Plus the Valentine's Day dance is coming up next month and that's a <em>big </em>one, so we bargained with Craig about skipping this one."</p><p>"He kinda owes us, considering we've attended nearly all of them to date," Jeff concludes.</p><p>Frankie nods at each of them in turn. "Fair points." She turns to look at Abed, Annie, and Britta. "From what I've heard, your apartment—or, rather, its various iterations—usually hosts parties. Can I get a commitment to minimal absurdity?"</p><p>"Minimal absurdity?" Abed repeats. He shares a glance with Annie and Britta to consult, lingering more on Annie, and confirms, after she nods, "Sure, we can do that."</p><p>Annie sidles up to Frankie after their latest session, tells herself to not reach for her forearm to lay a reassuring hand there, and murmurs, as Abed and Britta walk ahead toward his car, "Don't worry, I'll keep this under control."</p><p>Frankie gives her a quick smile and a pleased nod. "I figured as much. Thank you, Annie."</p><p>Abed and Britta glance back at her, and she comments, a bit louder than usual, "See you at our next meeting, and I'm glad to hear you're up for the party!"</p><p>"So, can I get some assistance in planning a relatively tame get-together?" she asks the two of them as she catches up on the way out the door.</p><p>Abed nods while he digs his keys out of his pocket. "Sure, though I think you know more about those types of parties than us. But I'd rather not have a repeat of the disaster from early on this semester."</p><p>"Agreed," Britta comments, but her voice sounds a touch far away, and she's gazing at Annie with a surprising level of interest.</p><p>"What is it?"</p><p>She gives her head a little shake. "Nothing. Just thinking about some party ideas."</p><p>They wait for her to elaborate, but she doesn't, and Annie shrugs. Dealing with her own thoughts can be enough of a challenge, and she doesn't wanna take on whatever's happening in Britta's head, too.</p><p>**</p><p>The next week and a half go by as time tends to at Greendale, alternating between a slow drip of molasses and a speeding train, and for the first two and a half hours or so, Annie's having a great time.</p><p>They've repurposed some of their favorite strategy games—Blokus and Sequence—into drinking games, and everyone's at the sweet spot of interested but not overly competitive, and buzzed but not too drunk.</p><p>It goes a bit to hell when Annie asks Britta, "Can you fix me a rum and coke?"</p><p>Her drink acts as a Pensieve upon the first sip, yanking her back to the last time she'd had one of these. At a not-Greendale party. Or, rather, at a Greendale party that didn't include her regulars.</p><p>Her face flushes, and Britta's eyebrows furrow together as she chokes on her drink. "Too much Captain, not enough coke?"</p><p>"No, it's just—it's nothing, I'm fine," Annie lies, willing her memories to drown themselves since they're kinda embarrassing.</p><p>Britta shoots her a look that says, <em>"I know you're bullshitting me,"</em> as she drawls, "Sooo you're all good?"</p><p>"No—I mean, yeah—I mean…"</p><p>Fuck it, they're close enough now that they can talk about these kinds of things, right?</p><p>Annie jerks her head toward her room, and Britta puts up her cute little "Help Yourself" sign on their repurposed kitchen countertop-turned-bar before following.</p><p>"What's going on, Annie?" Britta asks as they settle on her bed.</p><p>"I—do you remember that sorta random Model U.N. party I went to a while ago? Like, right before winter break?"</p><p>"Sure."</p><p>"Well, that was the last time I'd had a rum and coke, and—Annie Kim was there, and—"</p><p>"Your namesake and nemesis?" Britta interrupts.</p><p>"Yeah, but we—we got on better terms after that debate debacle since we had a few more classes together and," <em>God, </em>why is she blushing, this feels so high school, "we, um, kinda kissed and made out a little and having the same drink as that night sorta triggered a flashback and...yeah."</p><p>Britta grins and lightly applauds. "Welcome to the world of kissing women! If she was—I mean, was she—"</p><p>Her face is on fire. "Mmhmm."</p><p>"Um—how was it for you? If you don't mind my asking."</p><p>"It was nice-ish. Like, I appreciate that I've been gay in practice now, instead of just in theory," she jokes, but Britta's looking through her veneer, so she admits, "But as far as an actual kiss, it was sort of strange. It was like she wanted to prove her superiority again and I thought at first that I'd kinda be into that, but." She shrugs. "I wasn't."</p><p>"That kinda makes sense, honestly," Britta answers after a pause. "You can get a real buzz from the emotions of hate-fucking someone, but I've never kissed someone I only disliked or had a weird frenemy thing with. No offense."</p><p>"No, I get it." Her next question tumbles out before she can stop it. "Have you ever hate-fucked Jeff? If—you know what, you don't need to—" she stumbles her way toward something that might be an apology, but Britta's look quells her.</p><p>"I've been close to that, but no, I don't think I've ever outright hated Jeff," she replies slowly. "Been frustrated with him? Sure. Especially since he has," she lowers her voice and Annie leans in, catches a whiff of her coconut vanilla shampoo, still going strong after an entire day, "a rather outsized opinion of how good he is in bed."</p><p>Annie can't help but let loose an undignified snort. "So all those jokes you've made…?"</p><p>"I mean, he's not <em>bad</em>, that's just me giving him shit because that's how we roll, but—" Britta's little headshake says everything and Annie feels oddly gladly she's shared this secret with her.</p><p>"Sorry," Britta murmurs, and she expects it's an apology for veering into this random sex discussion when she clarifies, "That other Annie's kisses didn't, like, meet your standards or whatever."</p><p>"Thanks for that. It was good to get the experience, but I'm not even sure what my standards for kissing women <em>are," </em>Annie confesses.</p><p>For all the fantasizing she'd done once she'd come out to herself, she's never actually articulated a vision for what she'd want. How she'd want another women to approach that first bit of intimacy with her.</p><p>Considering this now, on her bed, in close proximity to Britta—with a slight buzz, no less—screams danger, but she can't get up, can't find an excuse to rejoin the party.</p><p>Especially not when Britta asks her, "Well, is there any crossover between kisses you enjoyed from guys, back when you thought you were straight?"</p><p>"I'm not sure. Mostly because I was more of a kid then. More naive when I kissed Jeff and when I was with Vaughn. And now…"</p><p>She should stop talking.</p><p>She can't.</p><p>She pictures herself and Britta on the roof, like switching locations would make this any less revealing.</p><p>"I'm not looking for that kind of romance. But I don't want a kiss that's a competition, either, like what Annie Kim gave me."</p><p>Her voice is mirroring Britta's, dropping lower, and she swears they'll touch foreheads if they lean any closer together.</p><p>"So what <em>do</em> you want?"</p><p>Annie hears the interest. The challenge. It's there, if her brain can work long enough to react properly.</p><p>Her voice is barely more than a rasp. "I want a kiss that means something, even if it's not everything. I want a kiss that makes me feel cool, not cute."</p><p>Her mind jump-cuts to how she'd hesitated that time on Valentine's Day, all those years ago, how she'd fluttered her eyes shut and hammed up her approach.</p><p>She's more direct this time, and she catches a flash of pink lips, a gleam of white teeth and she nearly gasps, "Oh," because she thought Britta might pull away.</p><p>She doesn't.</p><p>She usually hates accidents, but she's not sure if them going from friends to whatever this is qualifies as one. Not with how they've intentionally bonded over the past few months.</p><p>Annie registers a hint of orange juice and savors its slight sting on her tongue as she whispers, "What are you drinking?"</p><p>"Tequila sunrise." Britta's gaze, barely shaded by long lashes, could pierce her cheek. She'd thank her for the wound. "Want another taste?"</p><p>Annie nods, cups Britta's face with trembling hands as she kisses her again. Soft, but with tendrils of heat curling in her stomach.</p><p>It won't be daylight for a while, but Britta lights her up like she's a color map of the sun.</p>
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